


When All the Limbs Are Numb and Clean

by FaeryQueen07



Category: Live Free or Die Hard (2007)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-18
Updated: 2012-05-18
Packaged: 2017-11-05 14:23:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/407434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeryQueen07/pseuds/FaeryQueen07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There's lube dripping off the bedside table from where the industrial-sized bottle—and who even knew they came that big—tipped over earlier in the evening. It's all over the sheets, splattered and drying in streaks on Matt's skin, and it's making an indecent squelching sound as John works a forth finger into him, fucking him languidly, like they have no other responsibilities than this.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	When All the Limbs Are Numb and Clean

**Author's Note:**

> I blame @cherrybina for introducing me to this fandom. Since I just completed 90K of Werewolf Big Bang LFoDH fic, I thought I'd break the ice with a couple of PWPs before posting that monster. This has only been self-beta'd, so if there are glaring mistakes, please email me (faeryqueen07@gmail.com) rather than leaving a comment. Thank you!
> 
> The title comes from Soul Coughing’s _[Lazybones](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xICkR5IgO8g)_.
> 
>  ****Note:** There's a reason one should never post while at work. Sorry about the summary screw-up!!

There's lube dripping off the bedside table from where the industrial-sized bottle—and who even knew they came that big—tipped over earlier in the evening. It's all over the sheets, splattered and drying in streaks on Matt's skin, and it's making an indecent squelching sound as John works a fourth finger into him, fucking him languidly, like they have no other responsibilities than this. 

In truth, today, right now, they don’t.

Discarded somewhere at the end of the bed is the plug John had stuffed inside him somewhere around late-morning, when all of this first began, and he searches for it now, dipping it into the bowl of water to rinse it off before slathering it once more in lube. Matt moans, low and broken because while he's only twenty-five, he's no longer young enough that six hours of drawn-out sex with John McClane doesn't take its toll on him. The muscles in his back ripple as he reacts to having the plug pushed inside, where he's overly sensitive and sore, and yet also desperately needing to be filled. John works the plug with loose fingers, rolling and twisting it every time he tugs it out and then pushes it back inside. Matt has nearly come seven times in the last six hours, only to have John stop whatever it was he was doing, and now Matt has reached the point where he’s _begging_ for it, with everything he has but words. 

He has only himself to blame for this, though.

It started out as a challenge. Sex between them is good. In fact, John is willing to go so far as to say it’s fucking _amazing_ , but Matt has this tendency to go off like a rocket the minute John’s dick gets anywhere near his ass, and while John doesn’t particularly mind, Matt does, and it’s been the cause of much anxiety as of late. Self-control is clearly the issue; Matt hasn’t got any. So John decided to see if he couldn’t exert it for him, keep Matt close, but not let him go over the edge until they were both ready. The key lies in the black ring wrapped tight around Matt’s cock and balls, keeping him from coming before John is ready.

He slides a hand underneath Matt and yeah, he's already halfway there, his cock sticky-slick and making a mess of the sheets. He’s hard, but not as hard as he can get, so John adds more lube and works two fingers in beside the plug. It’s the larger one of the two John bought for Matt, which means it’s a tighter fit, but Matt just sighs into it, body tensing only minutely before it relaxes and opens up for him. It still catches John off-guard sometimes, how trusting Matt is, even now, when he’s at his most vulnerable. But he does. He trusts John totally and completely, and John would die just to keep that trust intact.

“Think you can take a little bit more?” John asks. 

He smoothes his hand up Matt’s back, grinning when Matt pushes up into the touch. He only gets a nod in response, though, because somewhere around almost-orgasm number five, Matt lost the ability to speak. John is smart enough to know that won’t last forever, that it’s just a minor setback from Matt being denied release. Hopes, in fact, that the kid’ll get his voice back sooner rather than later.

John eases the plug back out and slides home, groaning at the impossibly tight clutch of Matt’s body. It’s like John didn’t just spend hours opening him up. Matt isn’t the only one who is sore. Every time he’s gotten close to coming, it’s been with John pressed balls deep inside him, and, like Matt, the only thing that’s held John back from coming is the black ring fit snug around the base of his dick and cinching his balls tight. It’s uncomfortable as fuck, but he’s past the point in his life where his body will allow him to come more than twice in six hours. At least, not without assistance, and John’s just not ready for that.

When he works in the first two fingers, Matt barely twitches, but at the introduction of a third, he shudders. The press of John’s pinkie forces a short groan out of Matt that melts into a half-hummed sigh. He starts whispering then, the words nonsensical at first, and that’s better. John likes it when Matt is noisy, likes the way it fills the crappy two-bedroom apartment they share and makes it feel like a home, like something worth coming back to.

“All right there, kid?” he inquires and he chuckles when Matt huffs at him. Matt claims he hates being called that, but it’s not true, not even a little. “Come on, now. Don’t go all quiet on me now, Matty-boy.” 

That earns him a glare. John withdraws, then pushes back in, not as hard as he’d like because having four fingers of your hand pressed in alongside your cock while you’re trying to teach your partner a lesson about gossiping with your ex-wife complicates things. There’s nothing to be done about it though, because John is really enjoying the sight of Matt stretched so wide open. He thinks about Matt’s request, about the way Matt’s eyes had gone dark and hungry, as he had run his fingers over John’s hand, down to his wrist, whispering about wanting to feel all of that inside him.

Just the thought has John’s hips stuttering. He closes his eyes for a second, regroups in the face of the image his mind is still producing, and fights for control. Beneath him, Matt murmurs something unintelligible and pushes back. He’s going to be getting more vocal soon, demanding that John hurry the fuck up. John’s been fighting his orgasm for... He checks the clock and winces. For six hours and forty minutes. He wonders what the limit is before a man’s dick just ups and falls off.

Sliding his fingers back out, John gathers Matt into his arms and pulls him up, holds him close, pinning him tight against John’s shoulder. Then he shifts their position, wincing only minimally as the muscles in his shoulders, neck and back disagree with the suggestion that he isn’t too old to be doing shit like this. Matt is useless as fuck, head lolling back against John’s shoulder as his consonants strengthen and his vowels pull together.

“J’sus, Mc—McClane. You gonna fuck me or—or what. God. Fucking...” He sighs out a breath, his eyelashes fluttering, but not quite closing. “Fucking cocktease. _God_.”

“Like this?” John rolls his hips up once. 

Matt whimpers, one of his own arms coming up to curve around the back of John’s neck. “Yes, Jesus. Like that.” His voice is stronger now, though no less rough and raw. “Harder, you bastard.”

Holding Matt firmly against his chest, John pulls back, then slams up, jarring Matt hard and making him groan. “You’re a bossy little shit, you know that, kid? It’s like you don’t know who’s in charge here. Me, Matty, that’s who.”

To prove his point, John pulls out again, dropping Matt to the bed, and earning an undignified squawk for his actions. It’s clear Matt has no intention to move by himself any time soon, so John wrestles him over onto his back, shoving an already ruined pillow beneath his hips. He slides his fingers back in, pressing firmly against Matt’s prostate even as he grips the base of his cock tight to keep him from coming. 

When John pushes back inside, it’s with a growl. He’s almost ready to come, so he gathers Matt up, holds him close and tilts back until he’s sitting once more. This way is better, though, because he can see Matt’s face, can watch how his eyelashes flutter with every breath. Matt approves as well, immediately moving in, closing the distance between their mouths. He’s tired, worn out after being pushed past his limits, but that doesn’t stop him from squirming in John’s lap, clamping down on John’s cock where it’s pressed deep inside him.

“Greedy kid,” John mutters, but he’s smiling all the same.

“Hurry up and fuck me, old man,” Matt whispers, and he laughs when John growls at him again, not the least bit intimidated.

John does. He fucks Matt with long, slow strokes, Matt’s hip clutched tight in his large hands. He really is getting too old for this shit, if the burn in his lower back is anything to go by, but he’ll worry about that later. Working a hand down between them, John pulls out long enough to yank the damn cockring off, then he’s back, pushing in deeper that before, pulling Matt closer.

“Don’t!” John barks when he sees Matt’s fingers curl around his own cock. 

Matt lets out a broken, pitiful sound, but he obeys, dropping his head down into the curve of John’s neck, both arms coming up to wrap around his shoulders. Seconds later, John’s release is spilling out of him with a groan. Matt whimpers but doesn’t move, just takes it as John fills him.

When he’s certain he’s done, John lowers Matt back down onto the bed, pulling out with a wince. It’s going to be a week at _least_ before he’s up for _anything_ concerning his dick and Matt’s, well, anything, but it’s well worth it. He drops his gaze down between them and grins at the sight of Matt splayed out, hips canted up and a thin trail of come seeping out of him. John rubs his thumb in it, follows it back up to the source, smearing it over Matt’s skin. 

“Stop being weird,” Matt says, but his voice is light, breathless, like he’s turned on and fighting not to show it.

John smirks and stretches out beside him, propped up on one elbow. His gaze goes back down to where he’s working his fingers back inside Matt, come and lube squelching as he goes back to his earlier lazy strokes. When he chances a glance back up, Matt is staring resolutely up at the ceiling, cheeks red with embarrassment. John takes pity on him, removing the cockring and tipping forward to catch the head of Matt’s cock—dark purple and leaking—into his mouth.

It really doesn’t take much more than that, John’s lips on Matt’s dick, and four fingers inside him, pressing relentlessly against his prostate. His whole body shakes as he comes, little choked sounds escaping between sobbing breaths. Matt’s hands find John’s head and his fingers flex and spasm as he clutches at John.

When he’s done, dick too sensitive to bear any further stimulation, John releases it and scoots up the bed, collapsing back against what has to be the only dry spot on the bed. The room stinks of sweat and come, and he really wants to open the window, and maybe shower, but Matt is still making these whimpery sounds, body twitching from his prolonged orgasm.

“Shh. Hey, kid, calm down.” 

John reaches for him, jerking him close and wrapping his arm around Matt to keep him pinned close. He runs a hand down Matt’s sweat-slick back and grins at no one. As the tremors finally begin to ease, John untangles himself from Matt and the bed, padding across the room to the bathroom, where he gets the shower going. He has wrestle Matt into the stall, and he leaves him propped up against one of the tiled walls before returning to the bedroom to strip the bed. He dumps the sheets in the hallway to be taken care of later, then joins Matt in the shower. 

“You awake in there, kid?” John scrubs himself clean, then rinses out the washcloth and does the same for Matt. He gets no response, but when he looks up from where he’s kneeling at Matt’s feet, he can see a sliver of Matt’s brown eyes tracking his movements. “Matt?”

“M’tired,” is all Matt says, and John laughs at that because yeah, he’s fucking tired too. Fifty-three is pushing too old for day-long marathons of sex. 

He pushes two thick fingers back inside Matt, pressing a kiss to his thigh when he hears Matt hiss, and cleans him out there as well. When he’s completely done, he turns off the water and steps out, toweling off quickly before bundling Matt up. John leaves him sitting on the edge of the bathtub and disappears into the bedroom long enough to remake the bed. By the time he finishes, Matt has regained enough strength to stumble into the room and faceplant on the mattress. John chuckles, and reaches for him, manhandling Matt all the way onto the bed and beneath the comforter.

He’s still naked, but that doesn’t stop John from opening all the windows to let in fresh air, thankful for the steady seventy-degree weather the day has provided. He cleans up the mess of lube on the nightstand and floor, then takes the dirty sheets and towels down the hall to the laundry room, shoving everything into the washer. He gets the machine going and returns to the room to find Matt starfished out in the middle of the bed, sound asleep.

With a shake of his head, John shoves him over just enough to join him, completely unsurprised when the little wretch rolls toward him, long limbs immediately tangling themselves with John’s. It should be impossible to fall asleep like that, but John is exhausted, and Matt’s smell is too comforting to push away. Between the space of one breath and the next, halfway through a mental promise that next time they won’t go for quite so long, he falls asleep.


End file.
